


kamen (mask)

by thunderylee



Category: Nobuta wo Produce
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, borderline dubious consent, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-18
Updated: 2007-04-18
Packaged: 2019-02-07 15:37:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12844227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Deleted scene from Episode 06: Shuuji wakes up in the middle of the night and is very much reminded that Akira is in his bed.





	kamen (mask)

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

Shuuji dreams about his mother often. It makes sense to him; because she’s almost never home, his inner child cries out for her from deep within his soul. He doesn’t remember being this young but he’s sure he was at one time, long before Koji was born. His mother cherished her firstborn and spent as much time as she could – when she was home, that is – rocking the baby Shuuji in her arms.

When Shuuji dreams, he can feel it. The physical embrace, the safety, the unconditional love. Even as a toddler, he understood that although she was gone a lot, she would always come back. The scare with the airplane crash left him comforted instead of scared; to Shuuji, his mother is invincible. This would probably come back to bite him in the ass in later years, but for now he is content with the thought.

Tonight, though, as he balances between sleep and consciousness, the feeling is stronger than ever. Except that it isn’t his mother’s arms around him, nor is it her breath on his neck, and he is most definitely fully grown. Shuuji slowly wakes to the thought that perhaps he is still dreaming, of the future even, and he has since found a wife who reminds him of his mother; he still feels that sense of security mixed with a different kind of love. He immediately dismisses this idea as preposterous. Since when did he know anything about love? He knows how to love his family, but that’s the extent of his experience. Perhaps adult Shuuji would be more knowledgeable than teen Shuuji, he could only hope, but teen Shuuji knows that he is very much awake and this feeling is very much not a dream.

Wide-eyed in the darkness, he takes in the sounds around him: Koji’s even breathing from the other side of the wall, his own breathing, and the sudden rapid beating of his heart. The person behind him is silent but certainly there; Shuuji could not possibly be imagining being held in that way, not just an arm slung casually around his waist but _holding_ him, a face buried in his hair breathing hot air onto the back of his neck in sporadic puffs. This being is flush against his body, curled around Shuuji like he is a human-sized pillow, close enough for Shuuji to be especially aware of his gender. He is relieved that nobody can witness his embarrassment as he feels his face heat up and knows that he is turning red at the recollection of exactly who is sharing his bed tonight.

“Baka,” he whispers, intending to rouse his friend – are they really friends now? – and have a good laugh when he realizes what he’s been doing.

Poor choice of words, Shuuji belatedly thinks as Akira tightens his grip and snuggles against him, inadvertently pushing that… _that_ into his lower back.

“Are you awake?” Shuuji tries again, wiggling slightly to loosen the embrace.

Backfire. Shuuji should have known better; he’s male too, after all. He freezes as Akira exhales sharply and grabs a fistful of Shuuji’s shirt. “I am _now_ ,” he hisses in what would be an irritable tone had it not been immediately followed with quiet, high-pitched giggles.

Shuuji almost laughs with him, if only at the irony. Leave it to Akira to be absolutely unnerved by the situation, solely focusing on the obviously more important fact that Shuuji woke him up. “Move over,” Shuuji says quietly, resisting the urge to push back against him for emphasis; that would only make things worse.

“Don’t wanna,” Akira replies simply, releasing the garment and returning his hand to Shuuji’s stomach. “I’m comfortable.”

Shuuji stares at Akira’s hand as though his mere will can drive it away, fighting to ignore the overwhelming rush of heat that has encompassed his entire body from the contact. This is _Akira_ , he mentally reprimanded his hormones. He is a _boy_. Feel that? He is most definitely a _boy_! Shuuji immediately regrets that thought because now his mind is focused on that particular part of Akira as well. Swearing under his breath, he tries to focus on something else – his brother’s breathing, the memories of his mother, Yokoyama-sensei tugging at his pants – to keep his own body from following suit.

“I’m warm,” he says as a last resort. “Too much heat.”

“Shu~u~ji-kun,” Akira says, singing Shuuji’s name as he always does. “You lie too much.”

The words hit him like a slap in the face. What is he supposed to say to that? It’s true; Akira knows that better than anyone. He supposes that Akira really is his friend if his words make such an impact. Shuuji would have continued this thought if not for Akira’s hand shifting on his stomach, sending another jolt of unexplainable feelings coursing through his body and something like a choked sigh sounding from his lungs.

Akira shifts behind him and his next words are in Shuuji’s ear. “You should stop lying. It’s not very becoming of you, _cha_.”

“Nobody would like me if they knew the real me,” Shuuji replies, resisting the urge to shudder.

“I know the real you and I still like you.” Akira reaches this other hand up in front of Shuuji’s face, pinching his nose with his two middle fingers and his thumb. “ _Kon_!”

Obviously, Shuuji thinks, if the poking in his back is any indication. And the hand on his stomach that is slowly moving back and forth. And the –

Oh, God. Shuuji can’t stop himself from twitching as he feels Akira’s tongue on his ear, hot and wet as it traces the outer shell and lingers by the tragus. “Don’t,” he hisses.

“Why?” Akira asks innocently. “You like it.”

Shuuji frowns. He can’t very well argue with logic; his body is reacting completely to Akira’s closeness. “Why -?” he starts to ask. He was going to say “Why are you doing this?” but Akira chooses that moment to flick his tongue against Shuuji’s tragus and the rest of Shuuji’s question gets drowned in a barely audible moan.

As Akira sucks softly on Shuuji’s earlobe, Shuuji arches his back and catches himself before he makes another noise. “Koji,” he says softly, more to himself than to Akira. “Koji can’t see me like this.”

“Like what?” Akira prompts in a light-hearted whisper. “Happy? You are more of a role model to him right now than you are any other time.”

“It’s still not right for him to see _this_ ,” Shuuji protests further, twisting his fingers into his sheets for support.

“Then be quiet, _cha_.”

That’s easier said than done, especially when Akira starts to tug on Shuuji’s tucked-in shirt and barely grazes his pinky finger against Shuuji’s arousal. Shuuji bites his bottom lip and wonders briefly why he’s so affected by Akira’s touch; his thoughts are forced into the back of his mind as Akira’s fingertips drag along his bare stomach.

“Stop,” he whines, his body defying his words in every possible way.

Akira’s lips have moved to his neck; Shuuji automatically leans his head the other way to give him more access. “Do you really want me to?”

Shuuji says nothing. He feels like his blood is on fire as it rapidly flows through his veins, his skin tingling at every instance of Akira’s touch. In absolutely no way does he want Akira to stop, not now, not ever. A low groan is stifled in the back of his throat as Akira teases the waistband of his pajama pants; Shuuji pushes back against him, on purpose this time, and Akira grunts softly in his ear.

“Turn around,” Akira whispers, gently urging Shuuji to roll over towards him.

“I can’t,” Shuuji mumbles. “Then you will kiss me and it will be all over.”

“It’s okay to lose control sometimes,” Akira says philosophically in his sing-song voice, moving his hand lower. “I won’t let you fall.”

Shuuji’s hips begin to move of their own accord, seeking out Akira’s promising touch until Akira’s fingers reach the head of his erection. His body jerks at the contact, his neck stretching back until his head is on Akira’s shoulder; Akira attaches his lips to the newly exposed skin as he wraps his hand around Shuuji’s flesh completely and strokes him slowly.

Shuuji’s willpower lasts about five seconds before he flips in a complete one-eighty, his eyes wide open as though he needs visual confirmation that this is in fact Akira who is doing this to him. Akira meets his stare with dark eyes for a split second before embracing him strongly, aligning their lower halves and swallowing Shuuji’s moans by capturing his mouth.

It’s the first time Shuuji has been kissed, ever, and he thinks it’s Akira’s as well because neither of them has any idea what they’re doing. Shuuji feels Akira’s thick, plump lips against his, parted enough for his hot tongue to invade Shuuji’s mouth; Shuuji lets him, not just because it feels good but because it’s a distraction from the friction in his pants. If Shuuji concentrates on kissing Akira, he figures, his attention will not be entirely focused between his legs and he might just last a little while longer.

Akira, obviously, has other ideas. As he kisses Shuuji, his hand wanders down and pushes both of their shirts up enough to expose their stomachs, which stick together noisily from the sweat of their efforts. The sound makes Akira giggle into Shuuji’s mouth; Shuuji can’t help but smile as he wraps his arms around Akira’s neck for lack of a better place, pulling him even closer.

Presumably noticing Shuuji’s expression, Akira pulls away long enough to say, “I like how you take off your mask for me.”

Shuuji responds by kissing him again. Akira grabs one of Shuuji’s hands and pushes it between them, hesitating on the waistband to his own pajama pants. Shuuji can feel both of their arousals, both rock-hard and throbbing for attention, and he wastes no time slipping his hand inside and squeezing the hardness within.

Akira gasps against Shuuji’s lips, pushing himself into Shuuji’s touch and returning his own hand to Shuuji’s erection. Shuuji tears his mouth away when the pressure gets too much, smashing his face into Akira’s shoulder and biting down to keep from screaming as he releases into Akira’s hand. Shuuji hears a low sigh and more of Akira’s shrill laughter as a wet warmth covers his hand; after that, only the sound of their combined labored breathing remains.

Shuuji yanks his hand out of Akira’s pants as if it’s suddenly set on fire, staring at the liquid and wondering where to wipe it. Grinning, a flushed Akira saves him the trouble and licks it clean.

“You are so weird,” Shuuji whispers, watching in awe as Akira proceeds to licks his own hand.

“You taste good,” Akira replies seriously. “You must be getting enough calcium.”

Shuuji shakes his head and rolls over. “So what happens next?”

“Next?” Akira repeats, blowing air past his pursed lips as he thinks. “We go back to sleep.”

Snuggling into Akira’s embrace once again, Shuuji waits for the rest. When it doesn’t come, he turns his head as far as it will go and raises an eyebrow. “And then?”

“And then we go to school, _cha_ ,” Akira says.

“What about… _this_?” Shuuji prods, gesturing between the two of them.

“What about it?” Akira shrugs. “You’ve been so tense lately. I thought you could use some relaxing. _Kon_!”

Shaking his head, Shuuji faces the divider and drifts off. He will never understand how Akira can be so nonchalant about important things while completely passionate about things that don’t matter. _But they matter to him_ , Shuuji’s conscious reminds him.

When Shuuji dreams, it’s not his mother holding him as an infant. It’s Akira, who is loyal and doesn’t care what other people think of him. Shuuji thinks that they could be friends after all; in the way, they have been this entire time.


End file.
